Al opened his eyes blearily and tried to focus. He wondered when they had hit him with a Stunner—he didn't remember that at all. He remembered being snatched from King's Cross Station, though. With that memory, he looked up quickly and took in his surroundings. He was in a large room with walls of dark wood… and he was tied to a chair. Al pulled at his bonds and saw that the fibers were laced with something that sparkled faintly. Magically-enhanced, no doubt.
He gave up on escape for the moment and took in the room. A set of double doors—closed—sat on his right. In front of him was a huge stone fireplace with a wooden mantle, topped by a giant painting of a man in archaic clothing. It was too far away for Al to make out details. To Al's left were two large bay windows on either side of a massive wooden desk. A few small tables dotted the room, but no large pieces other than the desk. Al wondered if some furnishings had been removed to make room for the heavy chair that was Al's current prison.
Albus rocked experimentally, thinking he might tip the chair over and scoot his way to the door, but the damned thing was either too heavy, or more likely, attached to the floor with a Sticking Charm. He went back to examining his bonds, hoping he could loosen them enough to slide his wrists free.
Where the hell am I? he wondered. Who would want to capture me?
The door opened and two people walked in, both swathed in hooded black robes. One was large and the other small. Al watched them warily.
The smaller one approached and threw back the hood with pale hands.
"Hi, Albus," Elladora Greengrass purred. "How nice it is to see you… like this."
Al kept his face expressionless, even though he was more confused than ever. He knew Ella hated him, but what reason could she have for kidnapping him? Did she not know who his father was?
Her companion also removed his hood and Al raised a brow in what he hoped was a fine imitation of Scorpius. Al was certain he had never seen the man before. The bloke had darkish skin and thick black hair. He was handsome in a way that reminded Al of Score's father, although he could not put his finger on it right away. It eventually came to him. The man was polished, like a pretty vase on the outside, but inside filled with things that were hidden, and quite possibly unpleasant.
"Albus Potter," the man said as he reached out a cool hand to lay it against Al's cheek. Al thought about yanking his face away, but settled for bestowing a glare on the man instead. "You really are the spitting image of The Boy Who Lived, even down to those angry green eyes. He's rather pretty, too, wouldn't you say, Elladora?"
She rolled her eyes. "I don't consider half-bloods to be 'pretty' at all, actually. Although Scorpius Malfoy doesn't seem to make the same distinction."
"What do you want with me?" Al snapped, unwilling to allow the conversation to turn to Scorpius. He did not want to give the man any ideas about kidnapping Score. Al would suffer whatever punishment they planned to dole out, as long as Score remained safe. He realized with a moment of panic that he didn't know if Scorpius was safe. What if they had taken him also? He forced the worry to a small corner of his mind.
"I don't want anything with you, young Potter," the man said. "I'm after much bigger fish. However, you shall make very nice bait. Elladora was quite helpful in supplying us with the information necessary to snag you. She did not even want payment, other than seeing you suffer. She doesn't seem to like you, Potter. Ella, fetch the parchment and a quill."
Elladora walked to the large desk and returned with the requested items. The man pulled out a wand and Al looked at it curiously. He seemed to remember Eric's voice in his head as his father's Auror partner played "what if" games with them. If you are ever taken, Alley Cat, remember to pay attention to everything, no matter how insignificant it seems. Observe and recall clothing, wands, hair, scars, eyes… every possible detail. You never know what might be important, and what clue can lead us to the culprits…
Al looked carefully at the man and the wand. His skin tone was very distinctive. It looked almost honey-colored… or the same tint as one of Uncle George's Ton Tongue Toffees. The wand was paler, not as light as Al's ash wand, but not so dark as Score's chestnut, either. Oak maybe? Cedar? Al tried to memorize the shape of it. The man loosened the ropes on Al's right hand.
"Who are you?" Al asked, assuming the man would not tell him, but deciding it didn't hurt to ask.
"My name is Blaise Zabini," he replied. "Now, take this quill and write your father a nice note."
Al took the quill and wondered how to use it as a weapon. If only Eric had taught him some useful Auror tricks! Zabini thrust the parchment at him and stiffened it with a spell so that Al could write on it as he held it awkwardly on his thigh.
"What do you want me to write?" he asked. He pretended to concentrate on the paper, but his eyes gazed through the fringe of his hair at the wand in the man's hand. He wondered if he could snatch it. He was no Seeker, like Score, but maybe…
"Tell your father I'm requesting fifty thousand Galleons ransom for you, delivered by midnight tonight."
Fifty thousand? The sum nearly derailed Al's thought processes, but he recovered and quickly began to scratch the words. The quill was self-inking, and the letters were black and precise against the parchment. Al dropped the writing instrument and grabbed for Zabini's wand. Before he could grasp the wood, a dark hand caught his wrist and squeezed until Al nearly cried out.
"Tricky little prat. Just like your father, aren't you? Luckily, I know all about you Potters. Now stop the foolishness and get writing." He compressed Al's wrist bones once more and then released him. Al would have rubbed his sore arm if his other hand had been free. He glared at Zabini, but picked up the quill and continued writing.
"If you know who my father is, you must know he'll kill you for this."
Zabini snatched the parchment before Al could completely finish. The black ink left a violent streak on the paper. The man took Al's quill and the ropes magically retied themselves around Al's aching wrist.
"Your father doesn't scare me, Albus. I've know him for a long time, and I know things about him that he will sorely regret." Zabini added a notation to the paper, rolled the parchment tightly, and held it out to Ella. "Please take this to the owlery, Elladora, and send it to Harry Potter."
Ella obediently took the scroll and left the room. Al absently hoped she tripped on some stairs and broke her neck. Or possibly the owls would go mad and peck her to death. His vengeful musings were halted by Zabini pulling a small vial from his robes. Al looked at it warily, quite aware that a vial in the hands of a strange enemy was never a good sign.
"Do you want to know what this is, Albus?" Zabini asked.
"Not really, and I don't want to take it, either."
Zabini tsked. "I'm sorry, sweet boy, but I'm afraid you must. It's necessary, you see, for you father to know that I'm deadly serious."
The word deadly seemed to echo in the room and Al swallowed hard. He tore anxiously at his bonds.
"All you want is money, right? I'm sure he'll pay it," Al said breathlessly, even though he had no idea if his father had access to that much money. A ray of hope hit him at the knowledge that Score's father most assuredly had access to that much, and since they were friends now… well surely Mr. Malfoy would loan his father the money, if necessary. Al's voice was much stronger when he added, "He'll definitely pay it, so there is no need to make me drink anything. I'll just sit here and wait until the ransom is delivered."
Zabini laughed and Al was surprised at the nice sound of it. A dark hand reached out and touched Al's head before sliding down to cup the back of Al's neck. "Ah, to be so young and idealistic again. Actually, Albus, I'm sorry to inform you that I don't need or even want the ransom. The note was merely intended to bring your father here. I have other plans for him. But first, it's time for you to take a little drink."
Zabini uncorked the vial and Al stared at it in horror. "What is it?"
"Nothing much. It might make you a bit drowsy but other than that, you won't feel much."
The words had not answered Al's question. "What is it?" he repeated loudly. Zabini spoke a spell instead of answering and Al could not move as the potion was poured slowly into his mouth. It was not particularly foul, but it reminded him of wood shavings and licorice. Another spell forced him to swallow, and then Zabini released him. Al thought about spitting, but knew it was far too late. The contents of the vial sat in his stomach like a lead weight. "What is it?" he whispered.
"A slow-acting poison, I'm afraid. But if your daddy hurries, he'll be here in time to save you."
Al stared at him, horrified. Ella returned and scowled as Zabini capped the empty vial and tossed it on the desk. She pouted. "You said I could give him the potion."
Zabini chuckled. "You're a bloodthirsty little thing, aren't you? Just like your Aunt Daphne. She used to Crucio birds for the fun of it."
"I wanted to help," Ella said.
"You have helped, dearest. We would not have been able to capture young Albus without your information. Now, go have a seat while we wait for the intrepid hero to turn up."
Ella smirked at Al and then pulled his wand out of her robes. She dangled it by her fingers in front of him. "Poor little Albus," she crooned. "No one to save you this time. I'll bet your bloody father will be too late. I hope so."
"Why do you hate me so much?" Al asked. He flexed his fingers and wondered if he could Summon his wand. He had never been able to perform wandless magic before, except for unconsciously exploding saltshakers and destroying one of James's favorite toys, but this was a desperate situation.
Ella sneered. "I hate all your kind, Albus. Filthy spawn of Mudbloods. You should all crawl back to the Muggle world where you belong."
Al stretched the fingers of his hands as far as they would reach toward Ella. He opened his mouth to speak Accio, but Zabini said, "Ella, step away from there. I need to cast the spell."
Ella obediently sauntered to the nearest window seat and Al nearly howled in frustration at losing his chance. He could never Summon his wand at such a distance. His vision swam for a moment and he felt curiously lightheaded. Damn, the potion must be taking effect. He blinked to restore his sight, and saw Zabini standing in front of him with wand upraised. His kidnaper began to chant and Albus felt magic begin to coalesce around him. Zabini's face was fixed in lines of concentration. Al noticed beads of sweat standing out on his forehead, until a pinkish webwork began to obscure his sight.
Al watched in amazement as a faintly glowing half-sphere encased him, leaving him in a dome of pale light that he could barely see through. He wondered what sort of prison it was. It seemed redundant, as Al could not free himself from the ropes, even though his wrists ached from ceaseless trying.
Zabini walked back to the desk and conjured a glass of water. He downed it before collapsing in the chair that stood before the desk. "You can thank your Uncle George for that spell, Albus. Fascinating store he runs, you know. He supplies all sorts of nasty, tricky items to the Ministry. Available to the public if you know where to look. I modified that particular one, of course." He chuckled. "Quite a lot, actually, but the original design was all Weasley. Rather fitting, I would say."
Despite himself, Al looked at the webwork curiously. He could not recall any of Uncle George's items being remotely similar, but if it was something he had developed for the Ministry that was not surprising.
"What does it do?" he asked and absently noted that his words were slightly slurred.
"I'll explain that when your father gets here, of course. Just sit tight." He chuckled at his little joke and Al decided he did not like the man at all.
The person that burst angrily into the room a moment later was not Al's father, however. It was his mother.
"Mum!" he cried and almost burst into tears. He had never been so glad to see anyone in his life. She ran toward him with a sob, but Zabini's voice halted her in her tracks.
"I wouldn't cross that barrier if I were you, Gins."
She stopped mere steps from Al's dome and glared at the man. "What is the meaning of this, Blaise? What the fuck are you about, taking my son?"
"It's your own fault, dearest. With your hysterical talk about wanting to 'make it up to Harry' and 'get back together' and 'put your family first'. All that tripe put you firmly back into the enemy camp."
"Enemy camp?" she cried. "You're the one that has been trying to kill Harry? All this time? Did you kill Eric?"
"You mean your husband's dear, dead partner? I arranged that little explosion, yes. The American wasn't the target, but as usual the Chosen One's superior Gryffindor luck came through in the end and saved his bloody arse."
Al's mum looked horrified. "You told me you didn't know who wanted to kill Harry. You've lied to me from the beginning. What else did you lie about, Blaise?"
Zabini snorted. "You want me to tell you I wasn't lying when I said I loved you? Sorry, Gins, but although you were a bloody fine fuck, the only reason I took up with you was to get information on Harry Potter."
Al's mum blanched and looked at Al quickly, but he shut his eyes to avoid her gaze. Damn. He was old enough to know what Zabini meant. His mother had cheated on his father… with that horrible man. And he had pretended to love her? Why would she need that, when Al's father already loved her? Was that why his parents had constantly fought? Al felt sick from more than the potion.
Zabini chuckled. "I had no idea it would be so easy to lure you into bed. You were so resentful and indignant about never being the center of Potter's attention. He always had someone to save, did he not? Or at the very least, someone else he would rather spend time with. It's quite sad that you could never compete with your own brother and his wife for your husband's affection."
"Shut up, Blaise," she said.
"I have to admit, though, you were damned distracting for awhile. I nearly forgot my purpose a few times. I think I was close to honestly falling in love with you, until you decided to run back to him like the stupid little Gryffindor you are. Tell me, Gins, did he wait for you, or did he seek solace in the arms of another? Were Harry and the American more than work partners? I often wondered about your esteemed husband, considering the way he fixated on Draco in school… Maybe I should have tried to seduce him instead of you, eh?"
Al's mum leaped at him with a snarl. Al cried out as Zabini yelled, "Crucio!" and his mum fell to the ground with a high shriek of pain.
"Stop it!" Al yelled, thrashing at his bonds. "Leave her alone!"
Zabini grinned at him unpleasantly and tortured Al's mother until he was hoarse from screaming. His wrists bled from the ropes and his shirt was wet with tears. His mum had managed to pull out her wand, but Zabini's Expelliarmus had sent it across the room for Ella to snatch. She had tucked it away with Al's.
Al's mum lay unmoving on the floor, moaning slightly. "I hate you!" Al screamed at the evil man. He had disliked Ella intensely and he despised the Ravenclaw bullies who had attacked him, but Al had never felt genuine hatred before. Zabini did not seem to mind. He pulled Al's mum partially upright by her hair and his wand pressed against her face.
"Like father, like son, eh Potter?"
"You guessed it, Zabini," a harsh voice said from the doorway and Al's tear-streaked face rose with new hope. His father entered the room, accompanied by Mr. Malfoy. "Now put the fucking wand down and get away from my wife!"